The whole aspect of life in this apartment differed materially from that in the “nobles’ room.” A good many of the inmates were artisans, and some of the others had a turn for manual work, in consequence of which the room had quite the look of a workshop. The possession of tools was forbidden, but they had them notwithstanding, though nothing of the kind was ever to be seen when an inspection took place. These inspections, though minute, were “superficial,” as the gendarmerie expressed it; that is, we were never personally searched, so we simply put our tools in our pockets when the inspection began. Some of our workmen were past masters in their craft. Hrùstchov, a hero of the “May days,” was one of these, and another proficient was the locksmith Bubnovsky. With scraps of iron, old nails, and such-like he made a tiny lathe that could go into his pocket. With this little lathe he fashioned all the parts of a clock, and, though he had never been a watchmaker, produced a most artistic timepiece, that later found place in a Siberian museum. Almost all kinds of handiwork were carried on in our workshop, many of them having been learned entirely from books. Patience and endurance—lessons taught by prison life—had fruitful results when applied to such ends; and the theoretical studies that were undertaken, one comrade learning from another, also profited by those qualities. Knowledge was eagerly sought after in this room, and the _quondam_ students helped the working-men. Yatzèvitch and Zlatopòlsky came there every day to give instruction in mathematics and natural science; Fomitchov occupied the chair of Russian languages, and so on. On this account our room was sometimes called “the Academy.” Among the workmen a certain Karl Ivanein interested me much. By birth a Finn, but thoroughly Russified, his passion was for the finer branches of literature, and in these he was very well read. He was an enthusiastic adherent of Tolstoi’s teaching, and any hostile criticism of that sage stung his proselyte to eager defence. His was a highly gifted but eccentric character: soon after I became acquainted with him he was released from prison and sent to live in the penal settlement, where in a very little while he committed suicide. Fomin and Fomitchov were noted among the other students in our room for their determined industry. Fomin I had known in Switzerland, where he had lived for some time as a refugee. He had been an officer of infantry; was arrested for making propaganda among the soldiers, and imprisoned in Vilna, but escaped by the help of a comrade. He could not long endure to remain abroad, and returned to Russia, where he managed to conceal himself for a time, but was arrested in 1882 in Petersburg and condemned to twenty years’ penal servitude. While in Kara he occupied himself with the study of natural science, particularly mineralogy.